These Lights Will Inspire You
by estrafalaria103
Summary: Freshman year of college was rough for the New Directions living in New York, but having learned lessons about themselves and their relationships, they're headed back stronger than ever. But with new faces joining them and new challenges, making it big isn't as easy as they'd thought in high school. Klaine, Finchel, Santana/?
1. Prologue: Kurt

12/30/2010

**A/N: Greetings! This is a continuation of an earlier story, "Concrete Jungle" and if you haven't read that, I highly recommend reading it before starting this one! Enjoy!**

_August 15, 2013_

_Today officially begins the start of my sophomore year. In order to ensure that our future biographies are as accurate as possible, Rachel and I have decided that it's necessary that we record these early, formative years as our talent develops and grows. One day, I will look back at these simple pages as inspiration for my fabulous novel – or else I will be able to provide it to an unemployed English major who will undoubtedly attempt – and fail – to capture my tone._

_I write this sitting in the airport, trying to ignore as my idiot oaf of a brother is getting patted down by security for the second time already. The first one was, of course, when he'd failed to notice the prohibition against liquids and promptly lost all of his mouthwash, bodywash, and, most lamentably for him, his Gatorade, despite the fact that I told him at least seven thousand times to just put it in his checked backage. This time, he'd agreed to watch other people's bags, and is now surrounded by about fifteen pieces of carry-on luggage, including two Dora the Explorer backpacks and what looks like a trombone case._

_Beside the point. Last year, though wonderful to finally have made it to New York, was a disaster in a number of ways. I found my dreams dashed (I – and Blaine and Rachel, of course – still believe that NYU made a horrible mistake by not taking me into any of their acappella groups, but that's water under the bridge) and found new ones. I made a few friends, but it took a while to get there. Santana and Brittany broke up, Blaine and I didn't break up, but he did get his head broken by some homophobic idiot with a brick and no sense of propriety. Rachel and Finn got engaged – I think they still are – and I very nearly killed a man with a pair of fuzzy handcuffs. Needless to say, nothing went the way I anticipated._

_To keep my sophomore year from being similarly off-kilter, Rachel and I have each set for ourselves a number of clearly identifiable, ascertainable and achievable goals. (I will, of course, contain to maintain and add to my Bucket List, which is en entirely separate document)._

_Declare a major (leaning toward Architecture, but we'll see how my first Drafting class goes)._

_Score a paying internship, so I can actually afford to live off-campus next year._

_Hook Tim up with a single girl so that he doesn't end up crawling into my bed with me – a little dignity, please._

_Attend New York Fashion Week. Doesn't matter how. Just get in._

_Attend the Opening Day of Rachel's first Broadway musical (yes, she made me write that – pure blackmail, of course)_

_Plan an engagement party (for who? Well, I don't want to be presumptuous, but. . .)_

_Get the autograph of Aaron Tveit._

_Don't let Blaine know about the above goal._

_And now those Neanderthals from the TSA are apparently trying to pull Finn off to some enclosed space, undoubtedly to engage in some unconstitutional searching and seizing, It would be funny if it weren't so tragic._

_Speaking of tragic things, there's always my summer. Back in Lima, Ohio, and not only having to remember but to actually relive the horrible doldrums of that state. Sometimes I can't believe that I survived there for eighteen years. Still, there were parts that were nice. Most of the old New Directions came back – Quinn, Mike, Puck, Mercedes, and it was nice to see all of them. Santana stayed in New York – she took summer classes, and is hoping to graduate in three years so she can get straight into medical school and not accumulate any more loans than necessary._

_Brittany came back, though – they broke up, which should have been a surprise, I suppose, but wasn't. It was scary, though – I suppose it's all right to admit these things to a journal, if not to anyone else. It was scary, because they were so, so solid – all through high school they were together, even when they weren't, even when we didn't know it, and for that just to be over – Rachel and I had to go out and eat a cheesecake apiece after that, because if Brittany and Santana could break up. . ._

_ She's staying in Lima, now. Working at the Lima Bean, and is proud that she's graduated to working the cash register. I can't believe it – I worked here for about two week, once. I am 99% positive that there is a family of mice that live under the espresso machine._

_ I was able to make some easy money over the summer as well, when I wasn't busy tailoring Carole's entire wardrobe. The minute I stepped off the plane in May, my dad gave me a job – Keep Finn and Rachel from getting married. He paid me $70 every week that I kept them apart. It was the easiest money I've ever made, especially considering that Rachel and I had a conversation back in New York, before we left, when she promised me (with pinkies and a crossed heart) that it wouldn't be any less than a two year engagement. Which is for the best, really, since it will take me at least that long to put together a plan that accommodates both of their horrific tastes without being completely abhorrent to modern sensibilities._

_ The only real downside to the summer was Blaine. Or not – not that Blaine was a downside, Blaine is never a downside, but he was back to staying with his parents, or sleeping on the couch when he came to see mine. It's strange, not being able to sleep in a bed with him, or just let myself into his house, strange to not wake up to his breath on my cheek and his hand around my waist._

_ We were only together like that for three weeks, and somehow it felt more natural than sleeping in my bed at home, that I've had for fifteen years._

_ But today it's back to New York, and though I'm staying in the dorms at NYU, and rooming with Tim again – (you'll hear more about him, no worries, he's one of the very Important Secondary Characters in the Kurt Hummel Story) – weekends will still be spent in Blaine's monstrous bed, in his sixth floor apartment in Morningside Heights. It may be a bit strange at first – Finn's going to be living in the second bedroom there, which for some reason both boys think is a genius idea, and which made Blaine's mom let out a big sigh of relief when she heard. I'm a little worried that there will be an overabundance of Cheetohs and dip. I'll have to speak with Blaine about that. _

_ And now they really are towing Finn away. We're going to miss our flight. I suppose that will have to be it for today, as I go off to rescue the overgrown Golden Retriever that has somehow become my brother._

_Au Revoir!_

_Kurt E. Hummel_

**A/N: Coming Soon: Finn has to figure out what exactly he's going to do now that he's in New York, especially when Rachel's so busy. In the meantime, he'll just hang out with his Best Bro in the city, and his little brother, and maybe eat some dip. **


	2. Finn: City College

12/30/2010

**A/N: Now we enter into the bulk of the story – characters will occasionally refer to events that happened in "Concrete Jungles," so if you're confused about what they're talking about, just refer back to that story. Enjoy!**

Finn drops his bags in the middle of the room and stares around it in awe. Blaine's already assured him thirteen times that this is his room – he's paying rent, and he can decorate it however he wants, and lock the door whenever he wants, and he doesn't have to hang up his clothes or put them in a hamper, and he can eat food in his bed ("just, please, if you're going to do all of that, can you leave the door shut?"). He'd had his own room back home, of course, but then he'd been living with his mom, and she never let him lock the door. Besides, she'd always made him pick up his room, and he was absolutely _never_ allowed to bring food in the bedroom. Then at OSU he'd been able to do all of those things, but he'd had to share with Puck (and half the cheerleading team, it seemed sometimes). This is the first time a room is his – just his – to do whatever he wants with.

It's going to be totally _awesome_ once he gets around to buying a bed.

"Hey! Blaine! Hey!"

He staggers out of his room, sliding and tripping a little in his stockinged feet (the one thing he _isn't_ allowed to do in the apartment is wear his shoes, although Blaine says that he can wear them in his bedroom if he wants.) Besdies, it's kind of cool sliding around the apartment in just his socks – he's pretty sure that if he left the door open and ran down the hallway first, he could slide all the way through the living room and into Blaine's. Maybe he'll try it on Monday when Blaine is back in school.

"Blaine! Yo! Anderson!"

It's not that big of an apartment, and Finn is considering looking in cabinets and the fridge (Blaine's a pretty tiny guy, so he'd probably fit in there). Just then, Blaine's bedroom door creaks open and he comes out. Huh, Finn thinks. Yeah, that makes sense.

"What? What happened? Is something wrong?"

"Naw, dude, I just wanted to know if you had any idea where the closest Mattress Plus store was."

Blaine's lips quirk a little. "Don't worry about it, Finn," he says. "There's one being delivered later this afternoon. You didn't really think your mom would let you move into a place without a bed, did you?"

Finn shrugs. He hadn't really thought about his mom at all. But now that Blaine mentions it, yeah, that's a fair point. "Cool," he says. "So I just have to, like, hang around here all afternoon until they show up?"

"Um. . ." Blaine pulls out a weird little thing from his pocket and glances at it. "Well, they're supposed to be here between two and four. So we can go out until then. Do you want to grab your textbooks, or something?"

"Wait, you mean someone won't just give them to me on the first day of class?"

Blaine stares at him for a moment before slowly saying "Um. . .no. Did they do that for you at OSU?"

"Yeah," Finn says. "One of the team managers brought them to me. I mean, I lost my science book within an hour, but it worked well for the rest of them."

Blaine shakes his head. "That explain so much about why you got kicked out after you tore your ACL. Okay, c'mon, Finn, we'll go pick up your textbooks."

Finn shrugs. He thinks that the main reason he failed out was probably because he didn't take the quizzes or write the papers, but if Blaine wants to think it's just because he lost a book, then that's fine with him. He follows the other boy to the elevator and past the doorman (Blaine waves good-bye and calls him Paul – Finn just kind of awkwardly grins and shrugs).

They walk down Blaine's block and turn onto Broadway. Finn has to take a breath and gather himself when they start walking toward the subway. Panicked, he reaches out and grabs Blaine's shoulder. "Uh. . .dude. . .we don't have to take that, do we?"

"The subway?" Blaine asks. Finn nods frantically. "I guess not. Man, Kurt hates the subway, too. Weird. It's fine, we can walk, it's only about ten blocks north of here." Finn lets out a long, low breath. Mostly he's a pretty chill guy, and most things don't get to him, but the idea of being in a train, underground, hurting forward with all of the dirt and cars and buildings on top of him. . .well, that just sounds crazy. It seems weird to him that composed, put-together Blaine doesn't recognize the fact that the subway is a clear death trap.

As they walk, Finn keeps bumping into people and tanging his legs around dog leashes. It's so hard to keep his eyes on the sidewalks when there is so much other stuff to see – he knows that Morningside Heights doesn't have the tallest buildings in New York, but they're still a dozen stories taller than the tallest buildings in Lima, and there are so many more of them than in Columbus. Besides that, it's weird how there are shops on the street level and then just window after window above them.

"Who wants to live there?" he asks, pointing to particularly foul-smelling fish shop. Blaine grins.

"Probably no one. But if the rent is cheaper than another place, New Yorkers will put up with almost anything."

"Yeah, but they could just live over a pizza place. I mean, that would be cool, at least." Blaine just shrugs and smiles.

The other weird thing is that, as they near their third block, Finn notices that Blaine hasn't said hello to anyone. And that's just _weird_, because Blaine is pretty much the friendliest guy ever. He'll wave and talk to just about anyone, but he doesn't say hello to a single person here. Finn leans over and whispers, maybe a little louder than necessary "do you know anyone here?"

"Um. . .in New York? Of course." Finn shakes his head, and just points at the streets around them. "Oh, like, out here? No, I haven't seen anyone I know. New York is a big place, Finn. I can't know everyone."

Finn's beginning to think that he doesn't like this so much, but then they're walking alongside a block-long hospital, and there are less people on the street for him to trip over, and less buildings to stare at. He's able to breathe for a little bit, and begins walking forward at a quicker pace. Blaine practically has to skip to keep up.

"Finn, hey, could you slow it down a little?" he pants after two more blocks. "It takes me two steps to match one of yours, and you're going kind of fast."

"Oh, yeah, sorry," Finn says. He does slow down a little. He's getting kind of excited now. He hadn't actually had the chance to visit City College. After he'd proposed to her in the spring, he'd planned on just finding a job working in a mechanic's or something, until Burt pointed out that a lot of the ones in the city were family-owned businesses, and that he'd have to have a car and drive if he wanted to go to one of the bigger ones in the burroughs or the suburbs. So then he'd had to find something else to do.

_"Hey, Mr. Schue," Finn said, walking in to the high school. Graduation for the underclassmen was at the end of the week, and the Glee Club was practicing for the ceremony. Finn was planning on going, since he'd be in town anyway, and it would be cool to see Tina and Artie and Sam graduate. So when his former teacher had asked if he could play drums, he'd happily agreed._

_ "Finn, hey, good to see you, man," Mr. Schuester said. He turned to the rest of the Glee Club. Tina was there, of course, and Artie and Sam, but everyone else was completely new to Finn. It was kind of strange looking at them, though. . .there was a blond girl with a high ponytail who was the spitting image of Quinn, and a brown-haired girl was sitting beside a kid wearing a leather jacket and another one in a football jersey. He couldn't help but think about himself, Puck, and Rachel as freshman. There was a. . .uh. . .full-figured black girl sitting in the front, and if she wasn't dressed as crazy as Mercedes, she seemed to have even more sass. _

_ "Hey, guys," he said, waving his hand awkwardly. "I'm Finn. I was in Glee Club last year."_

_ "Yeah, when we went to Nationals," Artie said, sounding a little bummed. Finn winced. Mr. Schue had told them that they hadn't made it past Sectionals that year – apparently one of the new kids had fainted in the middle of the performance and they'd been disqualified. (Mr. Schue admitted to Finn that he didn't think they would have won anyway. . .apparently the Warblers were fantastic, and Ms. Pillsbury hadn't picked out the best set list for them anyway). _

_ "Back when people knew to be professional and not bring their personal problems on stage with them," Tina agreed._

_ "Hey, hey, hey," Mr. Schuester said, raising his hands. "We're past that, remember? And we've still had some good times this year. Singing at Prom was fun, right? And it will be good to sing at graduation. So Finn's going to play the drums, and you guys will sing along."_

_ Finn thought they were pretty good. The girls could really sing, and the dark-skinned boy was an awesome dancer. But there was something missing, and he thought that Mr. Schue could feel it too. The magic newness that New Directions had always had was just somehow gone. They were a group of talented kids, but there wasn't anything special about them, not more so than any other glee club in the state._

_He hung around a little bit after the practice. He was glad to hear that Artie was going to film school in Brooklyn, and promised to help him move. Sam had gotten a modeling contract in New York, and Tina was heading to veterinary school. The last one was a little bit of a surprise – Blaine hadn't even known that Tina liked animals._

_ "So, how are you doing, Finn?" Mr. Schue asked, as he began putting away the music stands and tidying up. "I feel like I haven't seen or heard from you in so long. How's the knee?"_

_ "It's fine, now," Finn says. "The coach at OSU said that if I took summer classes I could probably come back in the fall._

_ "Finn, that's great!" Mr. Schuester's face lit up, the life that had been missing all day finally reappearing in his teacher's eyes. Finn feels a little bad, knowing that he's going to crush that hope in just a second._

_ "Yeah, but I'm not going."_

_ "Why not?"_

_ "Um. . .Rachel and I are getting married."_

_ Mr. Schue paused for a moment, in putting things away, and he didn't turn to meet Finn's eyes. "I thought you decided that wasn't a good idea during senior year."_

_ "Yeah, we did," Finn agreed. "And I still think it was important. But I was so focused on the things that I couldn't do in New York that I didn't think about the things I could do. And Mr. Schue, Rachel's so special. I couldn't deal with being here without her, I just couldn't, and then when Blaine was in the hospital –"_

_ "What?"_

_ "It made me realize that we don't have time to wait and hope that the stars reassign themselves. So I'm going to move to New York. I just have to figure out what I'm going to do there."_

_ "Well," Mr. Schue said slowly. He sat down in one of the plastic chairs, and motioned for Finn to join him. "You could always go back to school."_

_ "Yeah, I know," Finn says. "But none of the schools in New York have a football team. So I'd have to, like, figure out a major."_

_ "You know, Finn," Mr. Schue said slowly, "I've always seen a little of myself in you. And you do a great job interacting with kids. Did you ever think about being a teacher?"_

_ Finn paused and thought. "I don't. . .I didn't ever think about that," he said honestly. "I mean, I didn't really like school when I was in it, so I don't think I would want a job where I have to come back every day."_

_ Mr. Schue chuckled a little at that. "Trust me, Finn," he said. "It's a lot different when you're teaching. And sometimes the people who had the hardest time in school make the best teachers – they can relate to the kids. Anyway, ultimately you have to choose what you want to do."_

_ "Yeah," Finn said, a little distracted. "Yeah, thanks, Mr. Schue. That helps a lot."_

So now he's going to City College, which had a late admissions program, and teaching. He doesn't know if he wants to be a teacher – despite what Mr. Schue had said, he still can't imagine himself coming to school every day. But coaching football would be cool, or glee club. Maybe he could be a janitor who coaches things – he thinks he'd be pretty good at that.

By this point they've reached City College, and Finn is kind of surprised. It's settled alongside a park, with trees and grass and everything, and the buildings are those tall, stone ones that Rachel told him are called gotham style. It's way cooler than OSU.

"Come on, buddy," Blaine says. Finn thinks that he's trying to clap him on the shoulder, but is too short, so it comes off as more of an awkward bicep pat. "Let's get you some books before we have to go wait for the bed."

XXX

Kurt and Rachel come over that night, to welcome Finn in to the neighborhood. Rachel looks absolutely loominous, totally different from the way that she looks in Ohio, and Finn can't stop staring at her. It's like she just comes alive in New York, and he's totally glad that he decided to move here.

Blaine and Kurt leave them almost immediately to go cook in the kitchen, and Rachel stands to help.

"No!" Kurt squeaks, causing Blaine to muffle his laughter in a hand. "Sorry, Rach, but. . .remember the turkey incident last year?"

"Or the one time I let you cook here and you set the sauté pan on fire?" Blaine adds.

"But guys, really, I can cook. . ." Rachel sighs.

"Just. . .keep Finn entertained and keep him breaking anything," Kurt says. "That's a big enough job."

"Fine," Rachel says, flouncing over and sitting beside Finn. It's almost comforting, hearing the low murmur of voices in the kitchen, the occasional banging of a pot or pan. It reminds Finn of being at home, when his mom would cook in the kitchen and Burt would. . . .well, Burt usually didn't actually help cook, he usually just sat there and kept her company. Still. It was nice.

"So, Finn, how was your first day in the big city?"

"Good," he says honestly. "Blaine took me to my college. Did you know that you have to buy books? They don't just give them to you the first day of school?"

Rachel stares at him for a moment. "Oh," she says slowly. "I see why there were. . .issues. . .at OSU after your injury."

"Hey!" Finn says excitedly. "That's almost exactly what Blaine said!"

Rachel sighs and pets him on the head. "So," she says lowly. "Do you think you made the right decision? Moving to New York, I mean?"

"Yeah, of course," Finn says eagerly. "I mean, now I'm with you!"

"Yes," Rachel says lowly. "But Finn, you should make this decision for yourself, too. Not just to be with me. What do _you_ want."

"I want to be here," he says stubbornly. "Besides, Blaine's really cool, and this room is so much more awesome than the one at home."

"Okay," Rachel says. She still seems a little uncertain about something, and Finn doesn't really know how to make her happier. So he does the one thing that he knows how to do that always makes her happy – just leans over and kisses her. But just as he pulls back there's a loud clanging sound from the kitchen, and Kurt's high-pitched yelp.

"Is everything okay?" Rachel squeaks, jumping to her feet. Finn joins her in hurrying to the tiny, gallery-style (Finn thinks that's what Blaine calls it) kitchen. Blaine is sitting on the ground, one hand to his head, while Kurt hovers anxiously over him.

"Dude, what happened?" Finn asks.

"Nothing, nothing, I'm _fine_," Blaine says, though he doesn't make any move to get up. "I just overreached for that pot." He waves a little bit at the large pot on the ground next to him. Kurt drops to his knees and begins running his fingers through Blaine's hair.

"Blaine, honey, I keep telling you not to stand on the counters to reach things. Just _ask_ me if they're too high up."

"It's not that," Blaine sighs. "I just. . .I didn't grab the counter the way. . .I didn't. . ." he shakes his head in frustration. "It wasn't where I thought I saw it."

"Oh," Kurt lets out a little breath and drops his hands from Blaine's head. Finn leans over to Rachel.

"I don't get it," he whispers. "Cabinets don't move – how could it not be where he thought it was?" She just shushes him though, and moves to turn off the stove.

"Rachel, don't worry about it," Blaine says plaintively. "I'm fine. We'll finish cooking. Just. . .go back to the couch with Finn."

"Absolutely not, mister," Kurt says firmly. "We're putting some frozen peas on that goose egg you have on your head and ordering in."

"We don't have peas," Finn says helpfully. "But I bought a steak! We could put a steak on his head."

Rachel tuts, and grabs a towel from beside the sink. She nudges Blaine out of the way of the fridge, and empties ice cubes into the towel. "Boys, really," she says. "Come on, Blaine, let's get you to the couch."

"I can move fine," the boy mumbles. "not my legs that are messed up." Still, he sems content enough to let Kurt guide him, and accepts the towel from Rachel when she hands it to him. Finn sits down next to him.

"Don't worry about it, man," he says. "Next time you want something up high, though, just ask me. Mom used to say that it was the only thing I was good for."

"And Carole was probably right in that respect," Kurt says haughtily. "Now then, what do you all want – Chinese or pizza?"

"Pop-overs!" Rachel says, and that seems to be enough to perk Blaine up. He instantly sits up and begins pouting, directing his expression toward Kurt.

"What's a pop-over?" Finn asks.

"Please, Kurt?" Blaine begs. "I just hurt my head, and I just know that a big, fluffy flake pastry would make it feel better."

Kurt stares at him. "You're just exploiting me."

"Pleeeeeeeeeeeease," Blaine and Rachel say in concert.

"They don't even deliver," Kurt points out. Rachel just grins and hugs Finn's arm.

"That's why we have big, burly Finn around!" she says chipperly. "He can go fetch it for us."

Finn's a little confused when he finds himself standing in the middle of a restaurant that is covered with stuffed animals and checkered tablecloths, but when the hostess hands him an absolutely _delicious_-smelling bag, he figures that it's okay. As he opens the bag and breathes in the warm, fresh-baked smell, he just grins. Yeah, New York is going to be _awesome_.

**A/N: Coming Soon: Artie finds that the City isn't really made for wheelchairs, Santana settles in, and Kurt gets to play with someone else's clothes. **


	3. Santana: Brooklyn

12/30/2010

**A/N: Short chapter is short. **

The absolute last thing that Santana wants to be doing on her first Saturday back in New York City is heading to the outer burroughs. She's got her own moving to do, because the shit her roommate in the sorority house thinks is cute is absolutely _not_ staying on her walls. Besides, there's a huge party going on at one of the frats, and she's got shopping to do, and plenty of other things that are preferable to helping Gimpy McStumbles move into his own very special, handicapable dorm.

The only upside is that Artie has promised pizza and beer for anyone who helps, and she does love her some 'za. Still, she thinks, as she climbs up from the subway to blink in the harsh light of a Flatbush morning. She glares at everyone wandering around – all a bunch of freakin' trolls. B & T people are the _worst_.

"Santana! Hey!" She turns to see Blaine, Rachel, and Kurt happily waving at her from just across the street. She takes a deep breath and heads over to them.

"Hey," she says, trying to ignore the way that Blaine and Rachel have launched themselves at her to create a weird, human octopus hug. "Where's Frankenteen?"

"He's busy getting his room set up," Rachel says, at the same time that Kurt says "he's afraid of the subway."

"Riiiiiight," Santana drawls. "Well, I'm only here for the brews and 'za, so let's get this thing on the road. Where's Wheels?"

"You never change, do you, Satan?" Kurt asks.

"Come on," Blaine says. "Brooklyn College is just a few blocks down that way."

The two hobbits, clearly excited, walk in front, their short, dark heads close together as they point at everything they walk by, practically bouncing as they go. Santana holds back a little.

"So, how's he doing?" she asks. Kurt sighs.

"I don't know," he says. "He's going to vision therapy, and he says it's helping, but it's obvious that he still can't see right. His depth perception is clearly off, and he's near-sighted now."

"So get him a pair of glasses and call it a day."

"It wouldn't help," Kurt says. "It's a traumatic brain injury, not a formation of his actual eyes. They said that another surgery might help, but Blaine doesn't think it's worth the risks." And then, in a clear attempt to shift focus off his pint-sized boyfriend, he asks, "and how are _you_ doing with Brittany?"

Santana shrugs. "You know, I'm okay," she says. She's surprised that it's actually true. When Brittany had first told her, at the end of the summer, that she'd be staying in Ohio, Santana had gone slightly. . .well, berserk wouldn't be completely off. She'd been terrified of heading back to New York without her girlfriend and her best friend, but she'd known, somehow, that Brittany was right. She didn't belong in New York, and it would be a lot easier for Santana to live in the sorority house, with its lower rent and closer proximity to campus.

_"You're my best friend," Santana had sobbed, grabbing the blond girl and holding her tight, as if she could keep them together by the simple force of her arms. "I can't lose you."_

_ "You won't," Brittany said simply. "I'll always be here, Santana. I just can't be there."_

_ Santana pulled back a little, fighting the tears in her eyes. "Do you not love me anymore?"_

_ "You know I do," Brittany says. "But I don't belong there. You're all chasing your dreams and I'm just. . .there."_

_ "You were chasing your dreams, too," Santana said fiercely. "They were about to promote you to cashier, remember?"_

_ Brittany just shook her head. Santana sighed, and laid her head down on her girlfriend's shoulder. "So. . .what?" she'd asked. "We're just going to do this long distance?"_

_ There's a long silence, and then Brittany is petting her head, the same way she pets Lord Tubbington. Santana takes a moment to look around for the cat. He's known to be crazy-jealous, and the last thing she needs is for twenty pounds of cat to jump on her face and asphyxiate her. _

_ "Do you want to?" Brittany asked._

_ Santana's first reaction was to insist that, yes, of course she wanted to try at least. But then she tries to think about it. Think about the Skype conversations, the phone, not being able to touch and taste her girlfriend, not being able to just sit here, like this. She thinks about how Finn and Rachel had failed so disastrously at the long distance thing, how even Kurt and Blaine had struggled with separation, when they at least lived in the same city._

_ "No," she says finally. "No, I don't think we should."_

_ "Then we won't," Brittany says simply. "But we'll still be friends."_

_ Santana had smiled, reached down and linked her pinky with the other girl. "Best friends," she said._

"Brittany was my first love," Santana says tenderly. "But first loves don't ever last forever."

"You want to tell that to Rachel?" Kurt asks dryly. She glances over at him, wonders if he doesn't realize the hypocrisy in him making that statement. A moment later a flush rises to his cheek, and she realizes that he does.

"Anyway," he says, clearing his throat. "New topic?"

"New topic," she agrees, glad to be able to talk about something light. Last year had been pure drama, and that's one of her promises to herself this year. No more drama. She knows how to study better, how to maintain her scholarship, and more than ever she knows that she wants to one day work in an ER. She knows how to travel the subway safely, knows how to flirt with girls at clubs, and knows – possibly for the first time, really _knows – _that she has a great group of friends who will help her get through any hard times.

Artie and his mom are waiting for them when they finally arrive at his dorm, just off the corner of Brooklyn College. It has a wheelchair ramp, as promised, though it's quite a bit steeper than any of the one's at Lima. Artie happily waves them over.

"Hey, guys, it's so good to see you all again!" he says, fist-bumping Blaine and accepting an awkward hug from Rachel.

"Oh," his mom says. "Moving some of the bigger furniture might be tough."

"Hey," Blaine says amiably. "We're stronger than we look."

"Well, he is," Kurt says mildly. "Blaine boxes. I mostly just do jazzercise."

Mrs. Abrams doesn't look like she quite knows how to respond to that. Artie rolls his eyes.

"Really, there's not that much to move," he says. "I'm in a single, and it already has a bed and dressers. It's mostly just moving clothes and stuff."

"And décor for the room, of course," Kurt says. Artie blinks twice.

"Huh?"

Mrs. Abrams gets them settled back down with two sharp claps of her hands. A moment later, Santana finds herself pulling a wheelie suitcase up the stairs while Blaine is juggling the microwave and coffeepot and Rachel is nearly buried beneath all of the comforters and bedsheets. Kurt is just talking with Mrs Abrams, while it's all that Artie can do to push himself up the ramp.

They open his door – fully equipped with a push-button to open – and head in. Kurt and Rachel whistle.

"Wow, this place is lovely," Rachel says approvingly. "It's not as quaint as Julliard, but it's quite a bit bigger."

"Same old cinderblocks as NYU," Kurt says. "But yeah. . .quite a bit bigger. I wish Tim and I had a place this nice."

Santana shrugs. It's nicer than her dump studio last year, but not quite as nice as her sorority house. Blaine wisely doesn't say anything, as nothing really matches up to his doorman-equipped two bedroom on the Upper East Side.

It only takes two more trips to get everything in. Kurt finally abandons his aversion to sweating when Blaine threatens to try and carry in the huge tv by himself, and Santana gleefully gets to carry the music instruments while Rachel, once again, ends up buried beneath a massive Christmas tree.

"Why do you need this thing anyway?" she asks.

"Abrams family tradition," his mother says. "The tree goes up after Thanksgiving and stays up until Pentecost. We didn't want Artie to have to go without."

"Mom, please," he says frantically. "You're embarrassing me."

"Oh, I am not," she says. She turns to Santana and the rest of them. "I'm not embarrassing him, am I?"

"I think I'm the only one who can make that decision," Artie says. He looks around the room, filled with boxes and unopened suitcases, and then back to his mother. "Um, Mom. . .thanks for helping but. . .can I just. . .set up. . ."

"Oh, of course," Mrs. Abrams said. She leans forward with practiced ease and places a kiss on her son's forehead. "I'll just let your friends help you settle in. Pick you up around seven for dinner?"

"Sounds good," Artie says. "Thanks, mom."

She leaves, and Santana thinks, not for the first time, that Artie has a really fucking cool mom.

"Okay," Artie says, clapping his hands. "Let's order a pizza and get this thing set up!"

"Veggie!" Kurt pipes up. He's already buried deep in the closet, hanging up Artie's nerdy-ass button-downs.

"Vegan!" Rachel pipes up.

"Meat-lovers!" Santana and Blaine say at the same time. Artie grins.

"Just like old times," he cackles, grabbing a credit card out of his wallet and calling. Rachel starts setting up the blankets and comforters on the bed, leaving Santana and Blaine to set up the tv, microwave, and other appliances.

"Guys, I really, _really_ appreciate you doing this," Artie says after he finishes placing the pizza order.

"Hey, no problem, what are friends for?" Blaine says mildly. HE seems somewhat befuddled by the various plugs for the tv. Santana rolls her eyes. Prep boy has probably never had to put something together by himself before.

"No, I mean. . ." Artie shakes his head. "I was kind of worried about coming out here. New York City isn't exactly the most handicap-accessible place. And I know school will be fine, but. . .it's just good to know that I have friends here. Who can help me."

Rachel, Kurt, and Blaine all smile at him, but Santana feels something sharp stab her in the gut. She looks at Artie, trapped in the metal contraption, and thinks about how many of the subway stations aren't handicap accessible – about how only half of the city busses are, so sometimes Artie will have to wait for one to come, about how none of the taxi drivers will help him into the car, or collapse his chair for him, even in the hope of getting an extra tip. She thinks about all of the restaurants that have stairs in the front, and the way that the streets are always hopelessly crowded.

They don't get it, Rachel, Kurt, and Blaine. Sure, they had problems their freshman year, but none of them were problems with the city itself – New York was always a magical place for them, and Rachel and Kurt's disappointments at school didn't have anything to do with the city itself. And Blaine – despite the. . .incident. . .he was fucking flourishing in New York, the big man on campus, nice place in Morningside Heights, and plenty of money to do whatever he wanted.

Not like her. She'd spent her freshman year feeling like the city was out to get her, always trying to push her out, to live somewhere safer, somewhere _easier_. She understood what Artie meant. Everything was against him, and he would only survive her by pure force of will. She leaned over and squeezed his hand.

"Hey," she says. "You're one of us. You ever need something, just let us know."

Artie looks a little surprised, but he still smiles at her. "Thanks, Santana."

**A/N: Reviews are love!**

**Coming Soon: Kurt wants Blaine to have surgery. Rachel wants Finn to get serious. Santana wants to get laid. And Blaine doesn't know what he wants. **


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